


Arms To Hold You

by PrincessAmericaChavez



Series: Critical Role Prompts [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 18:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessAmericaChavez/pseuds/PrincessAmericaChavez
Summary: When your soul aches, it gravitates towards a safe place, a pair of arms that can keep your pieces together, that maybe need your aching soul just as much.(post CR02x07)





	Arms To Hold You

**Author's Note:**

> Fjord/Jester + Caleb/Molly prompt

It feels like forever until they are finally alone. Sore, dirty and exhausted, they all seem to fall apart quietly as they reach the room they’ve been sharing. For a while, they don’t talk as they each take stock of their wounds, take off some of their heavier clothes and generally try to come to terms with all of it. 

Hurt and exhausted, Nott falls asleep first, curled up against Caleb’s ribs. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand over her, his eyes lost somewhere far that none of them seem able to reach. Molly considers slapping him again, but if he’s being honest he doesn’t want to. The wizard seems hurt enough as it is without adding more violence to the situation. 

With a heavy sigh, he thinks of turning his attention to someone he _might_ be able to help. He finds Jester as she’s cleaning her sickle, taking the blood off it with the same nonchalance as if she was painting her nails.

“Hey, you alright?” He repeats the same question he’d made twice in the cave.

Like then, he doesn’t get an answer. That makes him frown. Deep down, behind that bright and honest smile, he has the feeling Jester’s rather good at pretending, lying, deceiving. After all, he’s seen her in action, and he quite likes that side of her. Not, however, when she’s trying to pretend to be alright, when she’s so distant. 

“Oi.” He grabs her arm and feels her jump under his touch with a little squeak. He sends her an apologetic smile and repeats the question yet again. 

“Oh, yes, I’m good,” she nods with the same distracted smile she’s had since the cave. He faintly remembers hearing her whimper during the battle. She was scared.

“You sure? You took quite some heat back there…”

“Fjord helped me, so I am healed now,” she shrugs.

Molly knows there’s a big difference between being ‘healed’ and being ‘okay’, but he also knows when he shouldn’t push. As hard to read as Jester can be, this much is clear to him, as is the fact that she’s been gravitating towards Fjord all afternoon, casually finding reasons to just stay close to him, within reach. He figures that’s good, that maybe that’s what she needs to heal, to feel safe and protected by the half-orc. He looks at the other chair, where Fjord is cleaning his armor, focused on the task at hand like it’s life or death, they sit close without acknowledging it, as if it was second nature. It’s a funny and weird level of intimacy that he decides is enough for now.

“Alright, well, I’m glad you’re good,” Molly says, squeezing Jester’s shoulder before moving away. She goes back to her spaced-out movements as soon as he leaves. Something _is_ wrong, he knows, but he’s not the one needed to fix it. 

At some point, Beau’s loud snoring joined Nott’s. Molly huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. Of course the monk would just go to sleep without taking note of the freaking _mess_ their traveling companions are right now. Speaking of which…

“Oi, Caleb,” he says, voice hushed as he crouches next to the wizard. His blue eyes don’t meet his. “It’s ‘later’ now, and we’ve got time to properly talk if you want to.”

Still without looking at him, Caleb shakes his head energetically, emphatically. 

No words. 

His silence makes a chill run down Molly’s back. He _knows_ it’s not the same, that where he was two years ago was… was something else entirely, but it still makes him consider the possibility that Caleb just won’t talk at all again, that he’ll disappear inside his own head and become a scared shell of a man. The idea is unbearable, as is the emptiness in those pretty blue eyes and the pained twist of his lips. No, he will not have it. 

“Fine, fine, not talking for you either, but we could at least get a drink. Believe me, I speak from experience, that helps quite a bit with this shit.”

Finally, Caleb looks up at him. There’s a small spark in his eyes, like he wants to accept, but his eyes quickly bounce back to Nott and when they return to meet Molly’s it’s all tense worry.

“She’ll be alright,” he promises. “She’s safe here. We all are.” As if to make a point, the little goblin girl squirmed in her sleep and sighed calmly. “Besides, we should probably go and let her sleep.”

Caleb seems tense at first, but miraculously lets Molly help him to his feet without waking Nott up. She shuffles slightly until she’s wrapped around Beau’s torso instead. That seems to give Caleb some semblance of relief, and Molly is almost offended by the trust the wizard seems to put on the annoying girl. Whatever, though, better things to deal with right now. 

He leads the other man out of the room and down stairs to the pub. On their way out, he catches Fjord’s eyes and just gives him a reassuring nod. He’s got his own work to do with Jester and Molly’s got this handled. At least, between the two of them they might be able to put some of this pieces back together before whatever the hell they are begins to fall apart.

* * *

 

Jester lets out a heave huff for the third time in a row. Fjord frowns and glances at her. They’ve been sitting close, close enough for him to hear her mutter about her sketches not being funny enough. He glances cautiously and sees some of them: Shakaste and his little bird friend are there, as is the Manticore (though it’s smile is far less horrifying than he remembers), but then there’s a half finished drawing of Nott, and one of Molly, and then one that almost looks like himself but isn’t quite finished. He sighs heavily and stands up.

“Think we should hit the hay for tonight, don’t ya?” He asks, gently.

“Yeah, probably,” Jester sighs, closing her sketchbook with what’s probably more force than necessary. 

He sees her stand up and stretch her body, her dress still stained with blood both hers and from others. He looks away and prepares himself for bed.

“Beau took a bed,” he hears her say, tone accusatory. 

“Yeah, it’s alright. She’s earned it. ‘Sides, I said I wanted to try the floor tonight, that mattress didn’t do me no favors last night.”

“Okay,” she replies, and he could swear she sounds almost disappointed, but he shrugs it off. 

She picks the lower bunk bed and just drops on it unceremoniously. Fjord blows out the candle fire and then, in the darkness, finds his spot on the floor, right next to her bed. There’s quite a bit of floor for him to pick from, actually, but he figures since they shared a bunk bed the night before, it just feels right to stay close. And maybe, well, he just wants to stay close, hear her breathing after the scare from earlier. 

Because, he’s listening, he realizes she keeps moving on the bed, groaning quietly, huffing with frustration. He props himself up on an elbow and gives her a glance. In the darkness, he can see her frown.

“Jester,” he groans. “You gotta sleep.”

“I’m _trying_ to,” she whines. “I’m not tired.”

“You _are_ tired. You ran out of magic today.”

He gets a louder groan in response, and despite its playful tone it worries him a little. Jester’s not usually one to let her mood fall like this.

“Don’t remind me. Stupid magic, stupid spells, I couldn’t even do toll the dead right…”

“Now, now, you did a lot back there. Only reason you were tapped out is you kept us all safe.”

“I couldn’t even kill the stupid priest!” She raises her arms towards the upper bed, he sees her in the dark and tries to stifle a laugh. “And my sickle is not good for that either. Maybe I should get a maze… or a morning star… or a blade!”

And then his laughter dies for real, choked inside his throat and twisted into something much different.

“Yeah, ‘bout that… maybe you shouldn’t be getting so far inside the battle next time,” he says slowly. 

“But I’m great at fighting!”

“You could’ve died today, Jes. You almost do when you went to the priest…”

“Well, what _else_ was I supposed to do?! Stupid Toll the Dead wasn’t working and he had you with that stupid spell and everyone else was busy and you were stuck so-”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Fjord sits up a little more to get a look at her. She’s still looking up, frowning. “You were worried ‘bout _me_?”

She doesn’t reply. The silence, especially when coming from her, makes his gut twist uneasily. 

“Jester?” He insists.

“Of course I was!” She snaps, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes look watery, but in the dark he can’t tell whether she’s crying or it’s just the light. “You were frozen there and you couldn’t _move_ or _talk_ or do _anything_ and then the Manticore- she almost hits you again and you couldn’t _move_ and if Nott hadn’t distracted it you could’ve _died_ Fjord and I don’t know how to bring you back because I almost didn’t have spells left, so I couldn’t use a spell and the stupid priest-”

“Jester, Jester, Jester,” he tries to interrupt as he feels her spiral further. “Hey, come here.”

He reaches out and grabs her hand. She lets herself be pulled without resistance, still rambling quietly as she rolls off the bed and finds a place right next to his body. He holds her tight against his chest until she quiets down. He feels a slight dampness under his chin, where her face is tugged. 

“I’m alright, Jess, I’m alright. And I don’t want you to go puttin’ yourself in danger for me again.”

“But I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“I can look after myself.”

“But not always, that’s why we are here together. We look after each other. We said we would.”

His heart twists, with something that’s halfway warm and halfway worried as he feels her shudder in his arms. He presses his lips to the top of her head and breaths in the strawberry smell of her hair.

“I know. I was worried too, y’know? Still am. We ain’t got any healing potions left. I’m not as good with magic as you are, don’t even know if I _can_ heal somethin’ rather than destroy it… Don’t want you to get hurt when I can’t heal you back up…”

She stays quiet again, and he still doesn’t like her silence, but at least now he can feel her breathing, her heartbeat right next to his.

“Okay, so I will stay close to you now, yes? Until we get the potions. I stay with you and you stay with me and we both stay alive together.”

“Alright, darling, that’s a deal.”

She doesn’t move away and he doesn’t ask her to (doesn’t want her to). He doesn’t fall properly asleep until he feels her breathing even into a soft snore.

* * *

 

The bar is nearly empty as Molly and Caleb drink together. Since the wizard is still quiet, eyes lost somewhere Molly can’t follow, the tiefling takes it upon himself to keep up a good one-sided conversation. He talks about nothing in particular: the weather, the villagers, the circus, Shakaste, how annoying Beau is. Until finally he runs out of non-compromising things to talk about and the silence beats even his talkative energy. He’s lost count of the number of drinks they’ve had, not as many as he did yesterday but they are slowly getting close to that number.

“Caleb,” he says after a brief pause. “Oi, Caleb, look at me please.”

Slowly, the wizard does. Molly can read something in his eyes, some more recognition than before, as if maybe he’s been paying attention to his ramblings. There is something more, though, as if the emotions that were buried inside his silence had slowly begun to emerge to the surface of his expression. 

“I understand if you don’t want to talk right now. If you _can’t._ It will come back. Believe me, I know this. It’ll just do at its own rhythm. We’ll all still be here when you’re feeling better. I just want to make sure… that you _know_ you are _safe_ here. You and Nott. She’s safe, and you are safe, and we are all —surprisingly— safe and in one peace, and that is all that matters today.” He put a hand on the human’s shoulder and looked him intensely in the eyes. “You did good today. It’s over. You’re safe.”

There’s suddenly something in the man’s eyes. A moment of recognition, or maybe something else, something Molly can’t quite name. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can make a sound, a broken sound comes out of his throat and his face falls apart crying. Immediately, Molly pulls him into a tight hug, burrowing Caleb’s face against his shoulder. The human brings up his hands and holds on to Molly’s coat with desperation. 

Molly shushes him soothingly, hearing him sob like a child. In between, he hears words in a language he doesn’t quite understand. They sound like a confession, or an apology, something the man clearly needed to say even if they fall on deaf ears. All he can do, is offer reassuring words, wonder when was the last time this man was held, not by a creature that needed his protection but by one willing to give him comfort. 

That’s not fair, he knows, because Nott would give her life to keep Caleb safe and happy. And yet, the man is always so worried for her, that perhaps he just can’t fall apart, until now. Now, Molly can give him this, a moment of safety and welcoming arms, lips pressed to his hair that smells like smoke and musk and too many sleepless nights. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Caleb mumbles, pulling away, cleaning his face with his shaky hands. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Molly tells him, firmly. “Especially not for having feelings.”

“Ja…” Caleb sounds unconvinced, and it pains Molly to notice the pain in his voice. 

“It’s good to have you back with us.”

Caleb calms down, and gives him a look. No man has ever looked at Molly like that. No one, as a matter of fact. He finds, he likes it, maybe a little too much.

“Let’s have another drink,” he says, quickly, trying to deflect how much he craves to see that look again in the wizard’s eyes. 

“One more,” Caleb agrees, with the ghost of a smile on his face and the traces of sobs in his voice.

Inwardly, Molly curses himself, fully aware of what he’s walking himself into.


End file.
